


These Shoes Are Made For Rocking

by Xaverri



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Attempt at Humor, Fanart, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 19:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15298629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xaverri/pseuds/Xaverri
Summary: Craig should know by now that Clyde never gifts anything without ulterior motive.





	These Shoes Are Made For Rocking

 

Craig’s birthday party is, as expected from him, a private affair. Nevertheless, private with _this_ group doesn't equate _intimate_. The living room is filled with energetic folk and lively conversation flowing easily. She’s struggling to keep up with a decade of inside-jokes but enjoys herself nonetheless. These guys have a rich history together and even from the side-lines it’s a pleasant atmosphere to revel in.

After the obligatory singing (she’s never seen Craig look more embarrassed), Clyde gifts him shoes. Craig pulls the vibrant red pair of sneakers out, throwing a confused look Clyde’s way as he holds them aloft.

“Thanks?”

“I knew you’d love them! Dad imported them. They look awesome! Tweek, don’t you agree?”

“Dashing,” Tweek says, then bites his lip.

Butters nudges her, “Clyde’s dad owns a shoe shop.”

“Naturally, that makes him the resident fashion specialist, but don’t tell Taffy that,” Kenny adds from her other side on the couch.

“Oh,” she says, not really knowing what to say to that. Clyde _does_ seem to care a lot for his appearance, but is (she eyes Token), certainly not the best-dressed. Craig puts the box down and reaches for his next gift.

“You’re not gonna wear them?” Clyde looks crestfallen.

“Eh,” Craig hesitates, “maybe later.”

“Craig is nice, he doesn’t want to gas the party.”

“My feet don’t smell, Tweek!”

“Then why won’t you wear them, Craig?”

There’s an intense battle of stares going on between the pair, dead silence falling over the group as electricity crackles between them. She’s not sure, but has an inkling that this isn’t the first time Craig’s foot odor has been the subject.

“Fine,” Craig says, pulling off his own black shoes angrily. Tweek smirks in triumph, then escapes to the kitchen.

“Holy sh-shi-sh-crap, Craig. What a terrific smell,” Jimmy says, holding his nose. Token pales (she didn’t think _that_ was possible), and scrambles after Tweek, mumbling something about getting a refill. His glass isn’t empty.

“Seriously,” Craig mumbles, pulling the flaps of the shoes apart. He shoves his feet in and stands, spreading his arms at Clyde in a _Happy now?_ gesture.

“Yay!” Clyde claps his hands excitedly. “Fab! Just as I thought.” He kneels to lace them up (not even flinching at the alleged chemical fumes wafting up), expertly weaving the laces in an intricate pattern within seconds. She catches Craig’s eye, her friend mouthing _help_ at her, to which she bursts out laughing.

“Yeap, looking pretty smart, mister. Who knew color would look that good on you!” At Butters’ heartfelt remark, Kenny needs to slap both hands in front of his face. A few muffled snorts still escape. Tweek has no such reserves, and laughs boisterously when he ventures back into the living room. Craig silently questions the ceiling, blaming whoever's up there for _friends_ in general, and Clyde specifically. Clyde rights himself, saying, “All done! This’ll spice up the next gig, for sure.”

“I’m not wearing these on stage.”

“Hush-hush. It’s your birthday special, you’ve gotta show them off. Damn, the ladies are gonna love this, if they can take their eyes off _moi_ long enough.”

She leans towards Kenny, “Craig doesn’t _usually_ wear anything not-black, right?”

Kenny shakes his head, tears running over his fingers. Frankly, she doesn’t get what’s so funny about it.

 

\---

 

It’s the weekend, and The Barn is filled to the brim with people ready to rock. The crowd’s been warmed up, courtesy of DJ Diabetes, yet a buzz of anticipation weaves through air. Most gathered here are facing the stage in the back, will have come specifically to see the house-band play for what has unofficially been dubbed as Craig’s Special Birthday Concert (if there’d been a bet going on to whom coined that, she knew exactly which cheese-head to put her fiver on). Soaking up the positive energy, she nurses a drink, hanging side-stage with her roommates. Ah, the privilege of having been fallen head-first into this peculiar group of friends. To make time pass faster, they attempt to guess the band’s name for the evening.

“It _is_ Craig’s evening, whether he wants it to be or not,” Butter says. “It can’t be Clyde isn’t gonna, erm, draw inspiration from that.”

“Don’t you worry, he will,” Kenny says, smiling secretively.

“What do you know?” She asks, giving him a side-eyed look. He zips his lips in reply.

“Alright, how about: _I hope you’ve had supper, ‘cause here’s Craig Tucker!_ ”

“Clyde can’t rhyme for the life of him, Butters.”

“O-oh, okay.”

“I liked it, though.” Kenny ruffles his friend’s hair.

She smiles at the two. “I’m leaning more towards: _Have you seen Craig’s shoes? Full credits to the Dono-man!_ -if Craig stays true to his word, at least.”

“He has no choice,” Tweek pipes up from behind them, having come through the backstage door. “Clyde made him pinky-swear. Not even Craig would dare break that holy code, man.”

He looks fantastic, and she’s not the only one to think so. “Gee wiz, Tweek. Ain’t you looking dapper!”

“Butters, my darling; thank you,” Taffy says, having followed Tweek out, “I take full credit for this one.” She slaps Tweek’s ass in passing (he yelps like a chihuahua), then plants a kiss on Butters’ lips. She herself is at the top of her game in a sequined dress with outrageous heels that could stake a vampire. Elegantly wrapping her perfectly-manicured hand around the glass of wine that Butters holds out for her, she chugs it back in one go, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Pardon my French, but that is the last time I try to dress up that insufferable boyfriend of yours, Tweek. Black, black, black. Nothing else will go with this man. I don’t know how you put up with him.”

Tweek shrugs, pulling fingerless gloves on shaking hands as final touch, pointedly ignoring the salacious looks Kenny is giving him. Before he can say anything, Jimmy enters past the curtain, using his crutches to pull it aside. “Hey, puh-puh-pussies. Did you all finish your tea yet or are you going for another round of Trivial Pu-puh-, Trivial Puuh-, Trivial P-puh-puuuuh… Scrabble?”

“I’ll check up on the rest,” Tweek says, moving back-stage with a sigh. Pre-gig nerves make his lined eyes twitch, but she’s not worried, knowing that as soon as he’s out there, he’ll be able to center himself and have a great time. Butters and Taffy give her and Kenny a small wave, not wanting to miss Jimmy’s opening act, wishing him a good time as they head off to the floor.

Only a few seconds later does the band come out to gather side-stage, prompting an excited Jimmy to go up and do his thing. As the crowd erupts in cheers over his; “Can I get a what-what?”, she’s concerned to see Craig’s face spelling murder. He’s clutching the neck of _Stars and Stripe_ so hard he’s going to snap the strings off the innocent guitar any moment now. By looking at the others she tries to discern what the fuss is about but besides Craig, they all look eager to go on, decked out in red and blacks. In fact, all their outfits are oddly… _matching_.

At her soft call, his eyes snap up from where he was doing some last-minute tuning. “I distinctly remember you mentioning a couple of things you’d never go along with…” she trails off, looking from Token’s effortlessly cool red suit, to Clyde’s lumberjack-style red shirt, followed by Tweek’s screaming red pants. Craig self-consciously scrapes the toe of a red shoe along the floor, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“I totally tricked him,” Clyde says, smiling proudly. He tries to clap Craig on the shoulder but hits air as the other dodges expertly. The shirt he’s wearing fitting the occasion perfectly.

Kenny smirks, leaning his elbow on her shoulder as if she was a cocktail table, “Aw, poor Cwaigy doesn’t wanna play dress-up with his fwiends. Whoah, easy on the ‘zerking. You look fine, dude. Your reputation as _the tall, dark, brooding one_ won’t be damaged. Bet half of the crowd won’t even be able to tell with the stage-lighting and all.”

“Like hell they will. I asked the crew to fire up the extra bright spotlights for our birthday-boy,” Clyde exclaims cheerfully. She wonders if it’s just ignorance; Clyde blatantly disregarding the thunderous clouds hanging over Craig’s head, or if he _knows_ he’s asking to get smacked by a cymbal, tonight. She’s got to admit, they look great all color-coordinated, despite Craig’s best efforts with a rebelliously mismatched shirt.

“…But you’re not here for my brilliant comedy,” Jimmy says, finishing up. “So, put your hands and/or prosthetics together for your favorite unnamed band!”

“Own the day,” Token grunts, fist bumping Tweek before they climb the stage. Clyde follows, but is harshly pulled back by the scruff of his shirt. Craig sneers down at him, voice low and threatening. “George Michael is off the setlist.”

“What!? You can’t do that! He’s stunning and brave and needs all the love-”

Craig isn’t listening anymore; he pushes past Clyde, claiming his territory on stage, then grabs the mic to yell, “Good evening! We are _How many ballads does it take to make Clyde cry_ , and this is our first song!”

Clyde pouts, straightening his shirt, double-checking if his biceps are still nicely on display as intended. Then he shrugs at her before rushing up where he happily waves and winks at the swooning teens up front. Craig starts a heavy riff, the sound booming through The Barn with the other three falling in smoothly. Kenny and she share a laugh, then she plucks his arm off her, pulling him along to the floor to jump and dance until their throats are raw from screaming.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've commissioned the incredibly talented [Kibstar](http://kibsart.tumblr.com/) for this piece. Be sure to check out her amazing work! Please, do not repost her art without crediting.


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